Beckford, with his usual rhodomontade, said, our situation had never been so comfortable, nor the national union ever so complete. It was not the mob, nor two hundred great Lords (who received more from Government than they paid to it), that made us so firm: the middling rank of men it was in which our strength consisted, and who called upon us to demand peace sword in hand. Nor had our abilities ever been so great. He was astonished our ministers--who they were he knew not, nor did he look on Grenville and those in the House of Commons but as subalterns--were afraid of any power upon earth: he was amazed they could suffer such memorials from Spain, so derogatory to our honour. The answer should have been made by the mouth of cannon. The revenues of Spain were pitiful, were foreign: must be brought home,--and that we might have prevented. You are near shore, continued he; will you go back? and without a pilot? A King should not govern by a faction: the late King had been governed by one, who resigned in the midst of rebellion, and flung an empty purse in his face; but we had now no Earl of Warwick, no king-makers. Hope must come from the rising generation: we had tried the old in vain. The war in Germany _had_ an object, and had almost obtained it. The French ought to be kept there. He did not desire to see France and England engaged single-handed. France said, let us both get out of Germany, for she felt the mischief of warring there. The manner indeed in which we had conducted our affairs there, had been too expensive; of which he produced instances: but speak out, cried he; will you quit all your allies? Two points must be obtained, the security of America and of our fisheries. We had already conceded too much: he was sorry for it--was sorry Mr. Pitt had softened at all. He would be ready to second Mr. Wilkes in moving for the Spanish papers, and to know if they avowed Bussy.